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sua_layNever challenge me. I mean it. You say 'yo, ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
sua_lay, you can't write het' and I have to scribble down stuff.
This was written ages ago as a prologue to a Snarry that will never be written. But I do believe it stands alone quite well. currahee!
So without further ado....
Title: Time
Author: Rimau Sua Lay
Fandom: Potterverse
Pairing: Dumbledore/McGonagall. het story!
Rating: PG I think. angst. kinda death but with happy ending.
Summary: It's time.
Set after the final battle.
The woman looking back from the mirror looked old.
Minerva McGonagall tilted her head to the side, her gaze on her reflection. Yes. Old. Weary. The gloriously green dress robes couldn't hide it, nor could the rather whimsical scarf around her neck. The stern bun of her hair only accented the wrinkles.
"You don't really have to go there tonight." Even the reflection seemed to sense the sadness in her. It fidgeted its hands a little. "They would understand."
She didn't reply. Knew better than to argue with her own reflection. Besides, there was no use in saying anything. Excuses wouldn't help. Yes, she had all the reasons to stay in her rooms tonight of all nights. That was exactly why she had to go.
It was what he would have done, after all. What he had done. Been there for the others. The one constant thing in the lives of hundreds. She could do no less.
As if reading her mind, her mirror image huffed, "Fine. Have it your way."
As always.
Staying in front of the mirror a moment longer, she adjusted her hat. It wasn't the usual one, the one she'd adopted a few years back, since the fights had become a reality and not simply a threat. No. This was its predecessor. The one with wide rim. Coincidentally it was exactly the same shade of green as her dress robes were.
He'd always said it brought out the color of her eyes. She'd always thought he was the most outrageous flatterer in the wizarding world. Both were probably right.
She brushed away imaginary lint from her bodice and then looked at the clock hanging on the wall. 'Time to party'. It struck her as inappropriate, even though to the letter this would be a party. To celebrate the waning of the wheel of the year. To remember those who had departed.
Not a good thought. Not now, moments before she had to leave the silence of her quarters. Later. Later, when she was back here, she would let herself think about all the things she'd pushed away for so long. Not now. She was needed, and she would not disappoint her students.
Firmly turning her back on the mirror, she walked out of her rooms.
The way down the hallway was long. There was a faster route, but that would take her through the now darkened hallway that stretched out on both sides of the single torch illuminating the gargoyle. She didn't mind the walk. It gave her time to focus.
She passed the Fat Lady, smiling slightly. Her loyal Gryffindors. Sometimes the children had managed to surprise her, usually they'd simply added to the gray already in her hair. There was no one she'd ever forgotten, no matter how many years she'd spent as the head of the House. Only one she hated with her whole heart.
But that was in the past. Gone. Blown away like the miserable Rat on that final battle.
Not pausing to share words with the familiar painting, she walked on. Past the corridor leading to the Slytherin dungeon, nodding at the few black robed girls hurrying down there. Never glanced at the doorway beyond which some of the most dangerous magical objects were kept. Didn't want to go there, knowing she'd find only grief.
For there was one rule in the world that bound both Muggles and Wizards. One heartbreakingly simple rule. And no matter how she wanted to break it or bypass it, she knew it was impossible. Nothing could ever bring those departed back.
As she neared the Great Hall, she could hear the voices of children. At first a murmur, then an almost roar. She had to still for a moment, fighting against the urge to turn back and run to her rooms. All her years spent in her Animagus form made her skittish sometimes. Curling into a soft purring heap at the foot of her bed sounded like bliss.
A pleasant fantasy she couldn't indulge.
She stood at the doorway for a moment, composing herself. Then she simply pushed the door open and stepped into the Great Hall.
The long tables were full, students sitting there waiting. Endless rows of candles and pumpkins floated in the air, casting shadows all over the enchanted ceiling. People were chatting in anticipation, most of the Gryffindors taking a moment to greet Minerva as she slowly walked towards her place at the Head Table. She nodded at them absentmindedly, smiling a ghost of a smile at Ginny Weasley. Then she moved on.
Everything had changed. Familiar faces weren't there. The ones that had been such a huge part of Hogwarts had left that Spring. The great Harry Potter and his friends had finally graduated. Left the school to build lives outside.
She looked at the Head Table, her expression turning blank. Then there were those who hadn't left, but had fallen. A few colleagues. Even children put under her care. It still haunted her nightmares. Leaving behind such emptiness.
Such emptiness.
Not simply a feeling, a reality as well. There were new professors, and a fresh bunch of first years there. Looking so innocent, so young. The emptiness wasn't only inside her. In front of her as well.
The big chair in the middle of the Head Table was bare.
Minerva turned her gaze away, refusing to look at her old seat as well. She wasn't certain she could keep her disgust out of her face if she looked at Cornelius Fudge. He had no right to be here.
Seeing the place at the end of the table was unoccupied, she walked there and sat down. Next to her, Severus Snape looked up at her, his expression a mystery. He didn't say anything, silently acknowledging her presence.
There was nothing to say.
When all the students had finally arrived, Fudge stood up, tapping the side of his glass with a fork. "Settle down, people!"
It took a moment for everyone to silence. Eventually all eyes were turned to Fudge, though. It was the first speech the man would give at a formal occasion as the acting Headmaster.
"This Halloween, we are all adjusting to great changes." His voice boomed in the hall. "The defeat of You-Kno... Voldemort last Spring was a turning point in history, changing our world."
Minerva's soft snort simply echoed the one escaping Snape. Once again a knowing look was shared.
"Alas, the final battles were not easy. We lost many of our friends and family." Fudge went on. His voice was still even, as if he was giving a well prepared speech. There was no real sadness in it, even though he did his best to convey the emotion. "They are not forgotten, though."
There were muffled sobs coming from all around the hall. Most students cried openly.
It was strange how cold the words left Minerva. She had grieved for a long time for all those who had died. Losing the ones from her own house had felt like she was losing her own flesh and blood.
The pain and sorrow had been mingled with anger from the final battle. And the deep satisfaction of seeing Death Eaters finally fall. Of seeing Voldemort defeated.
Then the Summer had ended, and Hogwarts had once again filled with children. She'd done her best to push all the sadness aside, to remember the dead with fond memories. It had worked surprisingly well for exactly two days.
Until Albus Dumbledore had...
She focused on Fudge again. There would be time to think about that later on, when there was nothing but the darkness of her bedroom surrounding her.
Fudge was listing names, the list painfully long and the names so painfully familiar. After every single one there was a sound of pain coming from the tables. Each death was mourned.
It seemed to last forever. Names blurring to each other. Memories flashing through Minerva's mind, of youngsters so full of life. Of the battlefield so full of the fallen.
She saw her companion flinch hard as the name of Neville Longbottom was uttered. It was pure instinct, but she touched Severus' hand softly, not surprised to see the pain in the dark depths as he focused his gaze on her. He'd always been so stern with the boy, driving him to surpass the limitations of his heritage. Minerva had suspected he'd grown fond of him, but had never said anything. Now there would never be time for those words.
Fudge cleared his throat as he finished the list. He'd included former students as well, a fact he'd come to regret as minutes passed on. "We will also honor the one who..."
No. No no no. Minerva sat straighter, her face a stony mask. She'd hoped he'd have more sense than this. To not barge head first into the unknown. But of course he couldn't let it be. Until the next Headmaster arrived --or one should say, returned-- to Hogwarts, he would be ruling the school. What better time to assert that power.
"... guided us in the long battle." Raising his glass of pumpkin juice, Fudge declared, "To Albus Dumbledore."
"To Albus Dumbledore!" The words were almost a roar, drowned by the clatter as every student in the room got to their feet. Most of them were hoarse from all the crying, but no one could stay quiet.
The Headmaster had been loved. Even most of the Slytherin had grown to appreciate him, even though none of them had ever said it out loud. He'd been the solid rock, a human form representing Hogwarts. A symbol for everything that meant home.
Minerva couldn't move. She sat there, hands in her lap.
The toast didn't change anything. It didn't prove anything. But somehow it solidified the feeling she'd had ever since Dumbledore had disappeared. There had been no sign of foul play, no body. There had simply been the feeling of loss. Everybody knew Albus Dumbledore was gone and would not come back.
She looked around, as in daze. Everywhere, people were standing, talking about the Headmaster. Crying, but also smiling a little. The memories were bittersweet.
Seeing the dark form on her left made her eyes burn. Severus was the only person besides her who had not stood up. He was sitting there like frozen in place, his face pale as a death mask.
Minerva didn't move. She knew if she touched Severus this time, they would both shatter. Their sorrow was too poignant.
They were the ones closest to Albus Dumbledore. The ones who had loved him the most. She knew that Severus had also hated the old Wizard at times, but that didn't matter at all. Love had wiped all that away.
This was a sham. A play people played. To feel better. Yes, it was meant to honor the dead and to remember them, but she wasn't ready for that yet. Couldn't feel anything but the horrid emptiness inside her. The nothingness that kept her moving day in and day out.
She would be no part of this.
Fudge wiped the corner of his eye with a handkerchief that remained dry. Then he raised his arms. "We have endured the darkest of times. Now it's time to celebrate life as well as death, for they're both a part of the wheel of existence."
"That smug son of a..." Severus' voice was hoarse as he muttered the words. It was what Dumbledore had said, and now this buffoon was soiling his memory. He wanted to get up and then throw an Unforgivable at the man, but knew Dumbledore would have been awfully disappointed if he did. That was the only thing keeping him seated.
Minerva nodded absentmindedly. Yes. Cornelius Fudge was the worst person possible to rule Hogwarts. Still, the one Dumbledore had named as his successor was not available.
It was the greatest mystery of the century. For Dumbledore had stated in his farewell note that one day, the man who lived would come and take his place as the new Headmaster. It wasn't all that hard to guess whom he meant. The real mystery was where Harry Potter had gone. No one had seen him after the final battles.
Dozens of rumors circulated, none of them intriguing Minerva. It wasn't that she didn't care. It just didn’t matter whether she cared or not.
It was of the future, and for the first time ever, she didn't feel the future beckoning to her. Not feeling it through the magic, not sensing it in the air in her feline form. It was as if the Winter had already fallen, and there would not be a Spring for ages. Everything was covered in ice.
Minerva watched in silence as Severus muttered a few words, his anger driving none of the pain away from his eyes. She ignored the plates full of food appearing in front of her, not feeling any desire to eat.
The feast seemed to last forever. Voices were more hushed than usually, but there was soon the sound of chatter echoing in the room. Children were always comforted by sweets, and after eating, the mood seemed to turn from somber to wistful, even hopeful.
Not like adults, weary veterans who have seen too much to have hope left.
Severus left the Great Hall as soon as possible, his robes billowing behind him like a dark cloud of misery.
Watching him go, Minerva sighed. Poor boy. He would be carrying the pain with him for a long time. The grief for losing the only person in the world who had never doubted him, but also self recriminations. She knew Severus. He'd start thinking about things he should have done, might have done to save him.
It didn't make her to go after him, though. She simply didn't have the strength. He would have to find his own way through all of it. The pain and the fear as well as whatever Fudge was planning for them. She'd tried to hold on to her sense of duty, fighting against the pompous Minister, but in the end there had been no fire left in her. Nothing she could do or say would matter.
That was the whole thing. Nothing mattered anymore.
The duty she'd been fulfilling for decades held her in place through the supper. Fortunately no one expected her to join the conversation. Maybe the brittle expression she always wore these days made people steer away from her. She didn't know how terrifying it was for those around her to see the previously so fierce and passionate woman like that. Even if she had known, it wouldn't have changed anything.
When the first students got up and headed to the door, Minerva followed suit. She didn't look around this time, didn't respond to the greetings. It was pointless anyway.
Students were milling around the corridors, heading towards the dormitories. They were all taking the detour. Minerva thought about joining them as well, but then decided it wasn't necessary. Nothing could make her feel any worse. She let the stairways to guide her to the familiar corridor.
It was dark and cold. The one single torch not giving ample light nor illumination. Her footsteps echoed against the bare stone walls. There was no life there. Nothing for her.
The cold didn't leave her as she finally stepped into her own rooms. It was like she carried ice inside her. The woman in the mirror looked even older than she had a few hours before. Old and sad. Lost and lonely.
All the pain she'd kept inside was swirling in her mind, but there were no tears. She had cried for so many hours after the fights, she was out of tears. Even back in Spring, it had taken a strong embrace to unleash all the pain. The familiar touch that was always comforting, always loving. So much a part of her she sometimes couldn't tell where she ended and he began. Completion through the simplest and most terrifying of magics.
Love.
Now that was only a memory, and couldn't bring real comfort.
She went through her evening routines, moving on autopilot. Her dress robes went back to the closet, the hat to the shelf there. Her fingers brushed against the thick material longingly, remembering it had been his favorite. The dark emerald color always looking good next to his royal purple.
Usually, she would take a long shower to relax after an exhausting day, but she simply couldn't find the strength for it. Transforming into a cat and grooming herself would have been so soothing, but that was too complicated as well. She didn't think she'd have the strength to actually turn back if she hid in her feline form. A flick of her wand was efficient enough to clean a person.
Grabbing her brush, she moved towards the mirror, the action an instinct by now. A routine she had always enjoyed. He had also loved watching her move the brush through her hair. The simple joy hadn't changed even as the color of her hair had.
The clock on the wall chimed. Minerva stopped on her way to the mirror and glanced at it. A wizard's clock, it shouldn't really have chimed right now. Maybe a bit later, when it was time to go to bed. To her surprise she saw the hands point at something rarely seen on her clock.
'Time to leave.'
She stared at that for a moment. Time to leave. Leave what? Leave where? She didn't understand, and wished the clock was wrong. It had been a difficult day already. She didn't need any urgent calls or disasters in the Gryffindor tower to finish the already awful evening.
Turning her back to the clock, she went to the mirror, the brush already moving through her hair. She didn't really need to look at her reflection, but it was a habit to stand there.
Silence filled the small room. No sound of laughter or even soft humming. The only real thing was Minerva's hand raising the brush over and over again. Everything else was frozen.
For once, the image on the mirror followed her, not making any comments. It was almost like a Muggle mirror. Quiet. Lifeless. Then the reflection blurred, showing a figure standing behind her.
Minerva kept her gaze on the mirror, the brushing motion already making her sleepy. It was a blessing. She hadn't really slept well lately. Or slept at all. Waking hours seemed to pass by like she was sleepwalking, so maybe there was no need for real sleep.
A small movement made her blink. She looked at herself and then closed her eyes, the brush dropping on the floor with a soft thud.
"No." What a cruel trick. She couldn't believe someone had broken through the wards to her room just to place the accursed object there. It was the one thing she never wanted to see again, never wanted to face her deepest desires again. Because she knew what they would hold. Knew they would be showing her the man she had loved more than anything.
The figure in the mirror watched her for a moment before sighing, "No, Minerva. This is not the mirror of Erised." Soft, raspy whisper.
Her eyes snapped open at the sound. It was odd. She'd thought nothing would make her hurt more. She didn't often find herself proving her thoughts wrong. "Albus?" There was a world of pain and hope in that single word.
"Yes." Smiling at her, he nodded. "I am here."
Anger flared through Minerva's mind for one horrifying instant. Then it was quenched. She couldn't feel him, so he wasn't really there. It was his essence, but nothing tangible. Nothing that could come back to her. "You... You're really gone." The tears that had frozen were slowly melting, blurring her gaze.
"I am." Soft confession. "It had to be done. My time here is over, by necessity. The world really is changing, and it's time to move on." It had been the most difficult thing he'd ever done. To leave Hogwarts like that. Like a ghost. He hadn't had a choice, though. Necessity. That was the essence of it, no matter how others might describe it with a name of a deity. His time had come, and he'd left.
"But..." Minerva swallowed. "Why?" She didn't even know what she meant by that. Didn't know if she was asking why he'd left or why he was back.
Albus decided to interpret it the way he saw fit. "I'm breaking the rules, of course. That's what anyone would have done. Couldn't leave completely without seeing you again, and this is All Hallow's Eve..." His eyes twinkled as he said the last words.
The words washed over Minerva. Couldn't leave without seeing you... Biting her lip, she turned to glance at the clock again, returning her gaze back to the mirror immediately after seeing the strange words were still in place. "You never did care for the rules." Unlike her. That had been the focus of their most memorable arguments during the years.
He chuckled. It was so good to hear her voice.
Minerva closed her eyes again at the sound. No, she had never been one to break the rules, but this time she would. He was here to say goodbye, but she would never agree to that. She would go against every rule in the universe to be with him again.
Though she did figure this was the way things were meant to be. She didn't have any purpose left. There would be others to teach the children, others to guide Gryffindor.
It was time.
"I think it's time to leave." She echoed the words ringing in her mind. Slowly, she reached out with her hand, placing it on the smooth surface of the mirror.
Her actions clearly stunned Albus. He opened his mouth to protest, but a look into Minerva's eyes drove all words away. He had never seen a look like that before. Fierce determination. Joy. A hint of fear and a memory of an awful emptiness. She was so full of fire, like she had been all those years ago when they'd met. The spark was there as it had been when they'd spent endless hours arguing and making love and finally falling. He knew he would have lost the twinkle if he'd lost her. Would have wanted to follow her anywhere.
"Be sure."
Familiar words. The ones younger Albus had sneered out when she had first challenged him in a game of chess. Ground out when there had been the endless bets about classes, House cup or Quidditch. Whispered before the first searing kiss.
Minerva nodded. There was indeed nothing here for her. "Of course I am."
"Then come with me." Moving his hand slowly, he reached out, not surprised when she grabbed it with a strong grip. The strength that had once guided the broom to soar after the snitch was still there. It was a real touch, a real feeling. Still remaining as the mirror blurred before reflecting an empty room.
The clock on the wall chimed again.
*
The end
Betaed by WB as usual. Lady Ria helped with comments, so thanks!
Now back to teh slashy Snarry megafic and more angsting... :P
sua_lay, you can't write het' and I have to scribble down stuff. This was written ages ago as a prologue to a Snarry that will never be written. But I do believe it stands alone quite well. currahee!
So without further ado....
Title: Time
Author: Rimau Sua Lay
Fandom: Potterverse
Pairing: Dumbledore/McGonagall. het story!
Rating: PG I think. angst. kinda death but with happy ending.
Summary: It's time.
Set after the final battle.
The woman looking back from the mirror looked old.
Minerva McGonagall tilted her head to the side, her gaze on her reflection. Yes. Old. Weary. The gloriously green dress robes couldn't hide it, nor could the rather whimsical scarf around her neck. The stern bun of her hair only accented the wrinkles.
"You don't really have to go there tonight." Even the reflection seemed to sense the sadness in her. It fidgeted its hands a little. "They would understand."
She didn't reply. Knew better than to argue with her own reflection. Besides, there was no use in saying anything. Excuses wouldn't help. Yes, she had all the reasons to stay in her rooms tonight of all nights. That was exactly why she had to go.
It was what he would have done, after all. What he had done. Been there for the others. The one constant thing in the lives of hundreds. She could do no less.
As if reading her mind, her mirror image huffed, "Fine. Have it your way."
As always.
Staying in front of the mirror a moment longer, she adjusted her hat. It wasn't the usual one, the one she'd adopted a few years back, since the fights had become a reality and not simply a threat. No. This was its predecessor. The one with wide rim. Coincidentally it was exactly the same shade of green as her dress robes were.
He'd always said it brought out the color of her eyes. She'd always thought he was the most outrageous flatterer in the wizarding world. Both were probably right.
She brushed away imaginary lint from her bodice and then looked at the clock hanging on the wall. 'Time to party'. It struck her as inappropriate, even though to the letter this would be a party. To celebrate the waning of the wheel of the year. To remember those who had departed.
Not a good thought. Not now, moments before she had to leave the silence of her quarters. Later. Later, when she was back here, she would let herself think about all the things she'd pushed away for so long. Not now. She was needed, and she would not disappoint her students.
Firmly turning her back on the mirror, she walked out of her rooms.
The way down the hallway was long. There was a faster route, but that would take her through the now darkened hallway that stretched out on both sides of the single torch illuminating the gargoyle. She didn't mind the walk. It gave her time to focus.
She passed the Fat Lady, smiling slightly. Her loyal Gryffindors. Sometimes the children had managed to surprise her, usually they'd simply added to the gray already in her hair. There was no one she'd ever forgotten, no matter how many years she'd spent as the head of the House. Only one she hated with her whole heart.
But that was in the past. Gone. Blown away like the miserable Rat on that final battle.
Not pausing to share words with the familiar painting, she walked on. Past the corridor leading to the Slytherin dungeon, nodding at the few black robed girls hurrying down there. Never glanced at the doorway beyond which some of the most dangerous magical objects were kept. Didn't want to go there, knowing she'd find only grief.
For there was one rule in the world that bound both Muggles and Wizards. One heartbreakingly simple rule. And no matter how she wanted to break it or bypass it, she knew it was impossible. Nothing could ever bring those departed back.
As she neared the Great Hall, she could hear the voices of children. At first a murmur, then an almost roar. She had to still for a moment, fighting against the urge to turn back and run to her rooms. All her years spent in her Animagus form made her skittish sometimes. Curling into a soft purring heap at the foot of her bed sounded like bliss.
A pleasant fantasy she couldn't indulge.
She stood at the doorway for a moment, composing herself. Then she simply pushed the door open and stepped into the Great Hall.
The long tables were full, students sitting there waiting. Endless rows of candles and pumpkins floated in the air, casting shadows all over the enchanted ceiling. People were chatting in anticipation, most of the Gryffindors taking a moment to greet Minerva as she slowly walked towards her place at the Head Table. She nodded at them absentmindedly, smiling a ghost of a smile at Ginny Weasley. Then she moved on.
Everything had changed. Familiar faces weren't there. The ones that had been such a huge part of Hogwarts had left that Spring. The great Harry Potter and his friends had finally graduated. Left the school to build lives outside.
She looked at the Head Table, her expression turning blank. Then there were those who hadn't left, but had fallen. A few colleagues. Even children put under her care. It still haunted her nightmares. Leaving behind such emptiness.
Such emptiness.
Not simply a feeling, a reality as well. There were new professors, and a fresh bunch of first years there. Looking so innocent, so young. The emptiness wasn't only inside her. In front of her as well.
The big chair in the middle of the Head Table was bare.
Minerva turned her gaze away, refusing to look at her old seat as well. She wasn't certain she could keep her disgust out of her face if she looked at Cornelius Fudge. He had no right to be here.
Seeing the place at the end of the table was unoccupied, she walked there and sat down. Next to her, Severus Snape looked up at her, his expression a mystery. He didn't say anything, silently acknowledging her presence.
There was nothing to say.
When all the students had finally arrived, Fudge stood up, tapping the side of his glass with a fork. "Settle down, people!"
It took a moment for everyone to silence. Eventually all eyes were turned to Fudge, though. It was the first speech the man would give at a formal occasion as the acting Headmaster.
"This Halloween, we are all adjusting to great changes." His voice boomed in the hall. "The defeat of You-Kno... Voldemort last Spring was a turning point in history, changing our world."
Minerva's soft snort simply echoed the one escaping Snape. Once again a knowing look was shared.
"Alas, the final battles were not easy. We lost many of our friends and family." Fudge went on. His voice was still even, as if he was giving a well prepared speech. There was no real sadness in it, even though he did his best to convey the emotion. "They are not forgotten, though."
There were muffled sobs coming from all around the hall. Most students cried openly.
It was strange how cold the words left Minerva. She had grieved for a long time for all those who had died. Losing the ones from her own house had felt like she was losing her own flesh and blood.
The pain and sorrow had been mingled with anger from the final battle. And the deep satisfaction of seeing Death Eaters finally fall. Of seeing Voldemort defeated.
Then the Summer had ended, and Hogwarts had once again filled with children. She'd done her best to push all the sadness aside, to remember the dead with fond memories. It had worked surprisingly well for exactly two days.
Until Albus Dumbledore had...
She focused on Fudge again. There would be time to think about that later on, when there was nothing but the darkness of her bedroom surrounding her.
Fudge was listing names, the list painfully long and the names so painfully familiar. After every single one there was a sound of pain coming from the tables. Each death was mourned.
It seemed to last forever. Names blurring to each other. Memories flashing through Minerva's mind, of youngsters so full of life. Of the battlefield so full of the fallen.
She saw her companion flinch hard as the name of Neville Longbottom was uttered. It was pure instinct, but she touched Severus' hand softly, not surprised to see the pain in the dark depths as he focused his gaze on her. He'd always been so stern with the boy, driving him to surpass the limitations of his heritage. Minerva had suspected he'd grown fond of him, but had never said anything. Now there would never be time for those words.
Fudge cleared his throat as he finished the list. He'd included former students as well, a fact he'd come to regret as minutes passed on. "We will also honor the one who..."
No. No no no. Minerva sat straighter, her face a stony mask. She'd hoped he'd have more sense than this. To not barge head first into the unknown. But of course he couldn't let it be. Until the next Headmaster arrived --or one should say, returned-- to Hogwarts, he would be ruling the school. What better time to assert that power.
"... guided us in the long battle." Raising his glass of pumpkin juice, Fudge declared, "To Albus Dumbledore."
"To Albus Dumbledore!" The words were almost a roar, drowned by the clatter as every student in the room got to their feet. Most of them were hoarse from all the crying, but no one could stay quiet.
The Headmaster had been loved. Even most of the Slytherin had grown to appreciate him, even though none of them had ever said it out loud. He'd been the solid rock, a human form representing Hogwarts. A symbol for everything that meant home.
Minerva couldn't move. She sat there, hands in her lap.
The toast didn't change anything. It didn't prove anything. But somehow it solidified the feeling she'd had ever since Dumbledore had disappeared. There had been no sign of foul play, no body. There had simply been the feeling of loss. Everybody knew Albus Dumbledore was gone and would not come back.
She looked around, as in daze. Everywhere, people were standing, talking about the Headmaster. Crying, but also smiling a little. The memories were bittersweet.
Seeing the dark form on her left made her eyes burn. Severus was the only person besides her who had not stood up. He was sitting there like frozen in place, his face pale as a death mask.
Minerva didn't move. She knew if she touched Severus this time, they would both shatter. Their sorrow was too poignant.
They were the ones closest to Albus Dumbledore. The ones who had loved him the most. She knew that Severus had also hated the old Wizard at times, but that didn't matter at all. Love had wiped all that away.
This was a sham. A play people played. To feel better. Yes, it was meant to honor the dead and to remember them, but she wasn't ready for that yet. Couldn't feel anything but the horrid emptiness inside her. The nothingness that kept her moving day in and day out.
She would be no part of this.
Fudge wiped the corner of his eye with a handkerchief that remained dry. Then he raised his arms. "We have endured the darkest of times. Now it's time to celebrate life as well as death, for they're both a part of the wheel of existence."
"That smug son of a..." Severus' voice was hoarse as he muttered the words. It was what Dumbledore had said, and now this buffoon was soiling his memory. He wanted to get up and then throw an Unforgivable at the man, but knew Dumbledore would have been awfully disappointed if he did. That was the only thing keeping him seated.
Minerva nodded absentmindedly. Yes. Cornelius Fudge was the worst person possible to rule Hogwarts. Still, the one Dumbledore had named as his successor was not available.
It was the greatest mystery of the century. For Dumbledore had stated in his farewell note that one day, the man who lived would come and take his place as the new Headmaster. It wasn't all that hard to guess whom he meant. The real mystery was where Harry Potter had gone. No one had seen him after the final battles.
Dozens of rumors circulated, none of them intriguing Minerva. It wasn't that she didn't care. It just didn’t matter whether she cared or not.
It was of the future, and for the first time ever, she didn't feel the future beckoning to her. Not feeling it through the magic, not sensing it in the air in her feline form. It was as if the Winter had already fallen, and there would not be a Spring for ages. Everything was covered in ice.
Minerva watched in silence as Severus muttered a few words, his anger driving none of the pain away from his eyes. She ignored the plates full of food appearing in front of her, not feeling any desire to eat.
The feast seemed to last forever. Voices were more hushed than usually, but there was soon the sound of chatter echoing in the room. Children were always comforted by sweets, and after eating, the mood seemed to turn from somber to wistful, even hopeful.
Not like adults, weary veterans who have seen too much to have hope left.
Severus left the Great Hall as soon as possible, his robes billowing behind him like a dark cloud of misery.
Watching him go, Minerva sighed. Poor boy. He would be carrying the pain with him for a long time. The grief for losing the only person in the world who had never doubted him, but also self recriminations. She knew Severus. He'd start thinking about things he should have done, might have done to save him.
It didn't make her to go after him, though. She simply didn't have the strength. He would have to find his own way through all of it. The pain and the fear as well as whatever Fudge was planning for them. She'd tried to hold on to her sense of duty, fighting against the pompous Minister, but in the end there had been no fire left in her. Nothing she could do or say would matter.
That was the whole thing. Nothing mattered anymore.
The duty she'd been fulfilling for decades held her in place through the supper. Fortunately no one expected her to join the conversation. Maybe the brittle expression she always wore these days made people steer away from her. She didn't know how terrifying it was for those around her to see the previously so fierce and passionate woman like that. Even if she had known, it wouldn't have changed anything.
When the first students got up and headed to the door, Minerva followed suit. She didn't look around this time, didn't respond to the greetings. It was pointless anyway.
Students were milling around the corridors, heading towards the dormitories. They were all taking the detour. Minerva thought about joining them as well, but then decided it wasn't necessary. Nothing could make her feel any worse. She let the stairways to guide her to the familiar corridor.
It was dark and cold. The one single torch not giving ample light nor illumination. Her footsteps echoed against the bare stone walls. There was no life there. Nothing for her.
The cold didn't leave her as she finally stepped into her own rooms. It was like she carried ice inside her. The woman in the mirror looked even older than she had a few hours before. Old and sad. Lost and lonely.
All the pain she'd kept inside was swirling in her mind, but there were no tears. She had cried for so many hours after the fights, she was out of tears. Even back in Spring, it had taken a strong embrace to unleash all the pain. The familiar touch that was always comforting, always loving. So much a part of her she sometimes couldn't tell where she ended and he began. Completion through the simplest and most terrifying of magics.
Love.
Now that was only a memory, and couldn't bring real comfort.
She went through her evening routines, moving on autopilot. Her dress robes went back to the closet, the hat to the shelf there. Her fingers brushed against the thick material longingly, remembering it had been his favorite. The dark emerald color always looking good next to his royal purple.
Usually, she would take a long shower to relax after an exhausting day, but she simply couldn't find the strength for it. Transforming into a cat and grooming herself would have been so soothing, but that was too complicated as well. She didn't think she'd have the strength to actually turn back if she hid in her feline form. A flick of her wand was efficient enough to clean a person.
Grabbing her brush, she moved towards the mirror, the action an instinct by now. A routine she had always enjoyed. He had also loved watching her move the brush through her hair. The simple joy hadn't changed even as the color of her hair had.
The clock on the wall chimed. Minerva stopped on her way to the mirror and glanced at it. A wizard's clock, it shouldn't really have chimed right now. Maybe a bit later, when it was time to go to bed. To her surprise she saw the hands point at something rarely seen on her clock.
'Time to leave.'
She stared at that for a moment. Time to leave. Leave what? Leave where? She didn't understand, and wished the clock was wrong. It had been a difficult day already. She didn't need any urgent calls or disasters in the Gryffindor tower to finish the already awful evening.
Turning her back to the clock, she went to the mirror, the brush already moving through her hair. She didn't really need to look at her reflection, but it was a habit to stand there.
Silence filled the small room. No sound of laughter or even soft humming. The only real thing was Minerva's hand raising the brush over and over again. Everything else was frozen.
For once, the image on the mirror followed her, not making any comments. It was almost like a Muggle mirror. Quiet. Lifeless. Then the reflection blurred, showing a figure standing behind her.
Minerva kept her gaze on the mirror, the brushing motion already making her sleepy. It was a blessing. She hadn't really slept well lately. Or slept at all. Waking hours seemed to pass by like she was sleepwalking, so maybe there was no need for real sleep.
A small movement made her blink. She looked at herself and then closed her eyes, the brush dropping on the floor with a soft thud.
"No." What a cruel trick. She couldn't believe someone had broken through the wards to her room just to place the accursed object there. It was the one thing she never wanted to see again, never wanted to face her deepest desires again. Because she knew what they would hold. Knew they would be showing her the man she had loved more than anything.
The figure in the mirror watched her for a moment before sighing, "No, Minerva. This is not the mirror of Erised." Soft, raspy whisper.
Her eyes snapped open at the sound. It was odd. She'd thought nothing would make her hurt more. She didn't often find herself proving her thoughts wrong. "Albus?" There was a world of pain and hope in that single word.
"Yes." Smiling at her, he nodded. "I am here."
Anger flared through Minerva's mind for one horrifying instant. Then it was quenched. She couldn't feel him, so he wasn't really there. It was his essence, but nothing tangible. Nothing that could come back to her. "You... You're really gone." The tears that had frozen were slowly melting, blurring her gaze.
"I am." Soft confession. "It had to be done. My time here is over, by necessity. The world really is changing, and it's time to move on." It had been the most difficult thing he'd ever done. To leave Hogwarts like that. Like a ghost. He hadn't had a choice, though. Necessity. That was the essence of it, no matter how others might describe it with a name of a deity. His time had come, and he'd left.
"But..." Minerva swallowed. "Why?" She didn't even know what she meant by that. Didn't know if she was asking why he'd left or why he was back.
Albus decided to interpret it the way he saw fit. "I'm breaking the rules, of course. That's what anyone would have done. Couldn't leave completely without seeing you again, and this is All Hallow's Eve..." His eyes twinkled as he said the last words.
The words washed over Minerva. Couldn't leave without seeing you... Biting her lip, she turned to glance at the clock again, returning her gaze back to the mirror immediately after seeing the strange words were still in place. "You never did care for the rules." Unlike her. That had been the focus of their most memorable arguments during the years.
He chuckled. It was so good to hear her voice.
Minerva closed her eyes again at the sound. No, she had never been one to break the rules, but this time she would. He was here to say goodbye, but she would never agree to that. She would go against every rule in the universe to be with him again.
Though she did figure this was the way things were meant to be. She didn't have any purpose left. There would be others to teach the children, others to guide Gryffindor.
It was time.
"I think it's time to leave." She echoed the words ringing in her mind. Slowly, she reached out with her hand, placing it on the smooth surface of the mirror.
Her actions clearly stunned Albus. He opened his mouth to protest, but a look into Minerva's eyes drove all words away. He had never seen a look like that before. Fierce determination. Joy. A hint of fear and a memory of an awful emptiness. She was so full of fire, like she had been all those years ago when they'd met. The spark was there as it had been when they'd spent endless hours arguing and making love and finally falling. He knew he would have lost the twinkle if he'd lost her. Would have wanted to follow her anywhere.
"Be sure."
Familiar words. The ones younger Albus had sneered out when she had first challenged him in a game of chess. Ground out when there had been the endless bets about classes, House cup or Quidditch. Whispered before the first searing kiss.
Minerva nodded. There was indeed nothing here for her. "Of course I am."
"Then come with me." Moving his hand slowly, he reached out, not surprised when she grabbed it with a strong grip. The strength that had once guided the broom to soar after the snitch was still there. It was a real touch, a real feeling. Still remaining as the mirror blurred before reflecting an empty room.
The clock on the wall chimed again.
*
The end
Betaed by WB as usual. Lady Ria helped with comments, so thanks!
Now back to teh slashy Snarry megafic and more angsting... :P
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Date: 2005-06-15 10:33 am (UTC)For some reason I'd really like more fics with Minerva and Severus. Fridnship or whatever. It might be my recent interest for shipping young men and older women.:) or, you know, just me.